


Will You Be My Valentine, Asshole?

by StarSpangledBucky



Series: Hydra Husbands [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anniversary, Brock And Jack Name Calling Out Of Affection, Brock Can Crack Into A Bit Of A Romantic For Once, Fluff, HYDRA Husbands, Implied Sexual Content, Kinda?, M/M, Married Couple, Name-Calling, Sexy Underwear, Surprises, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Gifts, ass grabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:51:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6030394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpangledBucky/pseuds/StarSpangledBucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brock surprises Jack on Valentine’s Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will You Be My Valentine, Asshole?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kalika_999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/gifts).



> For my friend Candace because I wanted to write her a Hydra Husbands.   
> *throws it across a table* Enjoy.   
> And I need fluff Hydra Husbands, ha, sue me.  
> (Mature because swearing *tsk tsk* not for the young ones to look at).

Jack begrudgingly stumbled out of his and Brock's bedroom at the loud, obnoxious knocking on their apartment door. His hair was mussed from rolling around too much in his sleep, or more so rolling around in bed for  _ other _ reasons. He yawned and stretched, scrubbing at his tired eyes as he tried to look a little more presentable. Not that it'd even happen because he was only dressed in loose red sweatpants, with no shirt on, and his hair was a mess. Whoever was behind the door was probably going to get the shock of their life.

_ “Hello?”  _

“I'm coming! Fucking hell, give a guy a minute to wake up,” Jack grunted. 

He forcefully opened the door, faced with a brunette woman, much shorter than him, holding a bunch of deep red roses in her arms. Jack's brows knitted together in confusion, the tiredness still trying to drag him back to bed. It wasn't exactly a wise choice to answer the door at 7am in the morning, not after a late night at work. 

“Uh…can I help you?” he asked, running his hand down his face.

“My name is Heather from the florist two streets down. Am I at the right address for Jack Rollins?” the brunette questioned.

“Yeah, who's askin’?” he muttered, leaning lazily against the door frame. 

“I have a special delivery for you. These are for you,” Heather stated, holding the roses out. “And there was a gift left with us too,” she added, holding out a small black box to Jack.

“I didn't ask for these,” Jack replied.

“Oh, I know, but someone else ordered them for you,” Heather said, smiling kindly.

To say Jack was confused was a fucking understatement, he felt like he was losing his damn mind. 

“Um, thank you,” he mumbled, taking the gifts from the brunette, his mind still reeling. 

“Whoever it is that gave you these must be one awesome guy. Have a nice day and Happy Valentine's Day,” Heather chimed, turning away and leaving Jack still standing in the open doorway, stunned.

“What the fuck,” he breathed out, stepping back into the apartment and shutting the door quietly.

Brock was still sleeping in bed, his soft snores being heard in the hallway as Jack peered into the room. His husband had his arms tucked under his pillow, strands of hair over his forehead with the sheet resting over his lower back, sunlight kissing his skin to give it a soft glow. Jack looked back to the roses that sat on the kitchen counter, then to Brock, and back to the roses, before panic set it. He knew there was no way Brock would have done something like send roses or buy something on Valentine’s Day for him.  _ So who did? And what was Jack supposed to do if they were from someone he didn't know about and Brock found out?  _

“Need to get rid of these,” he uttered, quietly hurrying back to the kitchen. 

Jack stared at the roses, before grabbing them, jumping a little when a white piece of card fell out, falling onto the counter. He raised an eyebrow, curiosity washing over him as to who might have sent them, his fingers picking up the card after he slid it to the edge. His eyes widened at the message scrawled in messy handwriting, one that Jack only recognised as Brock's. 

_ To my shithead husband  _

He flipped the card.

_ Happy Valentine’s Day  _

_ Will you be my valentine, asshole?  _

_ Love your jerk of a husband x _

A laugh fell out of Jack's mouth, his mouth curving up into a smile, his attention now falling onto the black box sitting by the roses he'd set back down. Jack stepped closer to the counter, facing his body towards the kitchen, reaching for the box and pushing the lid off. He smiled wider, staring down at a silver link bracelet with a diamond skull secured onto it. The note on the box was in much neater writing, prompting Jack to think that Brock  _ may _ have taken his time, or asked the florist to write it. 

_ For you, because I love you, dickhead x _

Jack snorted and closed the lid back over the box, after grabbing the bracelet out and securing it around his wrist. Then he started walking away from the kitchen to return to the bedroom to wake up Brock. 

“Bastard,” he huffed, shaking his head with a smile.

When he turned into the bedroom, Jack stopped short, breath hitching, mouth falling open as he gawked at the sight before him. Brock was lying on his side, head propped up on his elbow, his other arm resting languidly on his waist.

“Happy Valentine’s Day stud,” he crowed, throwing the sheet back that lay over his waist.

Jack nearly swallowed his own tongue seeing Brock spread out on the bed with briefs that said  _ ‘property of Jack Rollins’ _ on his right thigh.  _ Am I dead? I better not be _ he thought, taking a step forward.

“Got ‘em custom made,” Brock mused, tilting his head up slightly. 

_ I’ve died _ Jack told himself, swallowing thickly.

“Why?” he asked.

“Why what?” Brock answered, leaning up further. 

There was a flicker of doubt in his husband’s eyes that Jack noticed, before he knelt on the edge of the bed. 

“Why did you buy me roses and this  _ really _ expensive jewellery on Valentine’s Day when we don't usually do anything,” he stated, waving the link bracelet in Brock's face. 

“Because I've been married to your dumb ass for ten years today and I brought in the big bucks on my last paycheck. I wanted to surprise you,” Brock explained. 

_ “You.  _ Wanted to surprise  _ me. _ What the hell have you done with my husband?” he teased.

“Jack c’mon,” Brock sighed, taking hold of Jack's wrist and sliding his hand down to Jack's. “I think ten years is supposed to be a milestone,” he continued, dragging Jack closer. 

Jack groaned irritably, falling down to the bed and rolling to lean over Brock, who had his hands on Jack's thighs while Jack had his resting over Brock's head. Their noses brushed each other's, breaths lingering over each other's lips with the room now filtered with light, shadow and warmth. 

“Ten years putting up with you, you fuckin’ dick,” Jack scoffed, lips barely moving against Brock's. 

“Right back at ya’ Jackie boy,” Brock whispered, running his hands up the length of Jack's back. “Nice surprise?” he hummed.

“A little,” Jack murmured, carding his fingers through Brock's hair. “The biggest surprise was you,” he purred, dropping his hand to the briefs and tugging the waistband. “I like these,” he added.

Brock grinned. 

“Hmm, you goin’ to do something about that, babe,” he drawled, cupping the back of Jack's neck.

“I had a few things in mind,” Jack said.

He drew Brock into the kiss, taunting him until Brock gave in, offering his mouth to Jack as their lips parted in sync. Brock always skipped the open mouthed kissing and went straight in with his tongue, gliding it over Jack's and smirking when Jack elicited a pleased sound from his throat. Jack's fingers curled into Brock's hair, his other hand coming down to cup Brock's left ass cheek greedily, biting on his husband’s bottom lip. Brock moaned loudly, knowing that always riled Jack up, feeling Jack's hips roll against his thighs, stomach muscles going taut as pleasure pooled in the pit of his stomach. 

“Fuck, Jack, I fuckin’ love you,” he growled, digging his fingers into Jack's hip. 

Jack grabbed Brock by the waist, hoisting him up so that he sat comfortably in his lap, legs on either side of Jack's waist. He tilted his head up to mouth at Brock's throat, grasp tightening around Brock's waist when Brock rocked his hips, his ass pressing right down on Jack's semi-hard dick. His breath came out in short pants as Brock raked his fingers through Jack's hair, his eyes blurred by lust. 

“I fucking love you too,” Jack hissed, gripping handfuls of Brock's ass again. 

His full weight was shoved back onto the bed, Brock's hands planted on his chest while he towered over him, ass rocking back and forth in a slow rhythm. 

“You ready to play Cupid, Jackie boy?” he challenged. 

Silence fell in the room until Jack pressed his hips up roughly, making Brock throw his head back and whine somewhere deep in his throat, a wicked smile crossing his face.

“I'm always up for a challenge, baby boy,” he replied, voice low and tempting. 

Brock laughed hoarsely.

“You motherfucker,” he cursed, Jack shutting him up with a deeper kiss. 

_ Ten years was definitely worth it.  _


End file.
